Sounds of booming thunder,
Of whinnies and snorts,
The ground rattles and rolls,

Dust flies in the air as they go by,
One by one,
The desert sun hot on their backs,

They gallop,
They run like the wind,
The band, a streak of greys and browns,

Their tails flying,
Their manes lapping the air behind them as if to wave goodbye,
They stay together with such mesmerizing exquisiteness,

Their speed mounting with every beat of their rhythmic hooves,
Then a cloud of dust,
And their gone.